Broken
by lookingforthestars
Summary: When Paige is hurt, Walter doesn't know where else to be.


**Sometimes I just write down bits and pieces of dialogue and don't have anywhere particular to put them, so they form their own thing. So here's just my 700th post-finale Walter and Paige one-shot.**

 **Side note: For anyone following my continuing story "Heartlines," I have a small request. I haven't quite figured out what I want to do with Florence yet and I could use some outside perspectives. So for that purpose, I've created a poll that is available at the very top of my profile page. If you want to help shape that story, please vote! Thank you.**

It was physiologically impossible for his heart to be in his throat. But damn if it didn't feel that way as Walter clenched his fingers into a fist and tapped it to her door three times, a knock that he meant to seem confident but not aggressive, deliberate instead of unbearably hesitant.

"It's open," she called out, and even though Walter was one hundred percent sure she was expecting someone else, he twisted the knob. Paige was fishing a twenty-dollar bill out of her wallet, which indicated that she was currently waiting for a food delivery. Her eyes finally flicked to his and she dropped the bill back into her lap. "Walter?"

"Hi," he muttered lamely, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. Despite promising himself that he wouldn't react, the tightness in Walter's throat traveled all the way down to his stomach at the sight of Paige's leg trapped in a cast, propped up on the table. She was wearing a pair of pajamas shorts and a blue t-shirt, her hair loose around her shoulders, and he knew he shouldn't have found her as beautiful as he did. But he didn't know how to feel any other way.

She followed his gaze, exhaling deeply. "Did you come to check up on me?"

"Y-You were already out of the hospital when I got Ralph's message. I'm sorry."

"Trust me, Walter, you have no obligation to visit me in the hospital." She was probably right, by the rules of social etiquette. It wouldn't stop him from beating himself up over the fact that he'd let his phone die while he spent six hours drafting a proposal and failed to be there for her and Ralph when he should've been. "And I'm fine. It's just a broken leg. I've been through this before."

He nodded, finding it difficult to make sense of the emotions swirling in his chest. Paige had gotten injured on Scorpion cases before—they all had. But he'd never seen her so incapacitated as this, even though he knew logically that it could've been much worse. "I-Is anyone here with you?"

Paige sighed. "I made everyone go home and rest. It was a long job, and I'm fine by myself for a few hours. Ralph didn't want to leave, but he has a test today, so…" She shook her head. "Honestly, it's nothing. They said I probably won't need physical therapy, just some time to heal."

She shifted slightly to the side, wincing as she did so. Walter pushed his hands into his pockets to fight the compulsion to assist her. "You need to be more careful, Paige. Y-You should have heard Ralph's voice when he called me, he was scared that—."

"It's a little ironic for you to lecture me on not taking risks, isn't it?" Paige snapped, narrowing her eyes at him. "Walter, if you came over to gloat that we're not as safe without you, I'm really not interested in hearing it."

"No. No, I…" He supposed he didn't disagree with that assessment. Walter hadn't always protected Paige to the degree that he wanted, but he would never have allowed this. Not to her. "What happened?"

"You know, the old story. Centipede finds bad guy, I confront bad guy, bad guy pushes me off a balcony." She shrugged with an ambivalence that didn't seem warranted, given the circumstances. "Guess I should be lucky it was on the second floor. There were fifty."

"Paige."

"Walter," she mimicked, giving him a stern look. "You came to see if I was okay. I am. Are we done here?"

Maybe she was, but he certainly wasn't. Stepping foot in her apartment again had triggered an uncomfortable flood of intimate memories and that, combined with his instinctive need to take care of her, made the idea of leaving yet nearly unfathomable. "Is there…" He cleared his throat. "Can I do anything while I'm here? D-Do you need anything?"

She looked down, her hair obscuring her expression from his view. Not that he could entirely read her, anyway. She wasn't yelling at him, but she didn't seem pleased to see him either. "I don't need you to do anything for me. Ralph will be home in a couple of hours and I can call Happy if I need help."

"I'm already present. That's an illogical use of Happy's time."

Now he could read her expression. Every fiery inch of it. "No, you know what's illogical? You coming here and acting concerned when you've already made it clear that I'm perfectly replaceable. Don't you have your own team to worry about?"

"I _never_ said you were replaceable—."

"Oh, you think I needed words to get that message? I may not be a genius, but I'm great at figuring out when someone is ditching me," she said with more than a little disgust.

Walter swallowed. "I-I wasn't _ditching_ you. I tried to explain that night. You didn't let me."

"Yes, I did! I did, Walter!" she objected, throwing up her hands. "I asked you so many times to tell me what was wrong. I begged you. I told you we would be okay if you were just honest with me, and you never were. And then you wanted to talk after you got caught? How was I supposed to believe anything you said then?"

A suffocating silence fell between them. She looked away, anywhere but at him, and he shut his eyes, trying to find an argument to explain why she was wrong and coming up empty. "It didn't matter," he said. "I was unaware of how unhappy I made you. F-Florence brought that to light. Perhaps it was for the best."

She didn't say anything. When it seemed like she might be done talking altogether, Walter took a step toward the door before changing his mind and reversing course.

"I just have…one question." He pressed his lips together, knowing this wasn't the correct time but fearing he might never get another chance to ask. "Why did you tell me that you loved me at the wedding?"

Paige frowned. "What?"

"I'm exactly the same person I was then. I-I've always had…those quirks that you find so annoying. And now you can't stand me and I…I can't stop wondering why you reciprocated at all when those things were so unbearable to you."

Paige stared at him blankly, appearing to search his face for something he had no clue whether or not she would find. "Walter, sit down," she said finally.

"I don't—."

"Please." He surrendered, taking the spot on the far opposite end of the couch. Paige glanced over at him before dropping her eyes to her lap, where her fingers were twisted together. "If I answer your question honestly, will you answer mine honestly?"

He nodded. There wasn't much for either of them to lose by being honest at this point.

"When you told me you loved me, that was…one of the best moments of my life. Probably the best one that didn't include Ralph." She bit the inside of her cheek. "Your quirks can be annoying, but they're not unbearable. It was a small price to pay for the good. It was also very convenient ammunition to tear you down so I wouldn't have to be down there by myself. I'm not proud of it. But there were cracks in our relationship. Ones that went…much deeper than garnishes or game nights. That's what Florence brought to the surface. And if it wasn't her, it would have been something or someone else."

"So you weren't…" He paused, forcing the words past his lips. "You weren't miserable with me?"

She shook her head. "No. And god, it hurts my pride to admit that. But Ralph called you when I got injured which means that whether I like it or not, we're going to be in each other's lives somehow. So we might as well get it all out in the open now."

"I, um…I agree." He knew she was only talking about Centipede and Scorpion, about their mutual connection to Ralph. And maybe that would have to be enough, but he wanted more. Maybe more than he was entitled to after the mistakes he'd made. "You had a question for me?"

"Yeah." Paige drew in a breath. "Why did you lie to me about the lecture?"

He took time to gather his thoughts, grateful that she was waiting patiently. "At first, it was to spare you. I knew you didn't want to go, and you'd had a long day, I just…I thought I could bring a friend," he emphasized the word, "and everyone would be happy. When I finally realized that you would be upset, I lied because I knew I would lose you. And I couldn't accept that. I thought I'd find some way to fix it. Paige, I-I know you think I lied because I had feelings for Florence. But I was so blindsided by her confession specifically because I hadn't considered her feelings at all. All I could think about was what it would mean for us. Which I realize doesn't sound any better, but you deserve the truth. I should've always told you the truth."

"I didn't always encourage you to," she admitted. "I don't know what we do with all this, Walter."

"Neither do I."

"Great," she muttered, running her hands over her face. The silence was there again, less oppressive this time but just as loud. Walter wondered if the proper course was to offer to leave, give her time to think even though he didn't need any himself. With Paige's confession, he was surer than ever of what he wanted. "I'm thirsty," she said eventually, piercing the quiet and startling him. "Can you get a water bottle out of the fridge?"

Walter blinked, her simple words somehow not making any sense to him. "I'm sorry?"

She tilted her head to the side, resting it on her knuckles. "You asked if there was anything you could do while you were here. And I could use some help with a few things. If you don't…have anywhere else to be."

It wasn't the reaction he'd expected, by any means. But it was a start. And a start was enough. "No. I'm fine here."


End file.
